Short, long, short, long, short, long. If the audience at Véronique Leroy's runway show were paying close enough attention, they would have noticed that after each fuller, longer silhouette came a shorter, body-conscious one. For the final walk, the models were arranged two by two, making this oppositional design entirely obvious. The precise styling arrangement was also echoed in the soundtrack, which jumped between a German rock band and classical music.

While Leroy once again took her cue from cinematic references—Noir et Blanc and Mortelle Randonnée—she also made her own point with this duality, which she applied to shape, color, texture, and heel height. The textural contrasts were the most noteworthy of the lot: A supple embroidered clear vinyl from Switzerland emphasized gloss, whereas a woven terrycloth had an uneven furriness. The patterning on the former was meant to evoke wood grain; once Leroy started layering it, the effect became dizzying. The terrycloth, in contrast, remained comforting, whether appearing as a minidress or a belted military-inspired jacket. Chalk it up to a case of foreign versus familiar. Leroy's binary protagonists seemed more alike than different when dressed in leather, denim, and oversize polka dots. Shoulders remained consistently strong.

Still, Leroy was perpetuating the stereotypical setup that sexy women wear short dresses and high heels, while longer lengths are the uniform of more conservative types. Although the cuts of her coats and jackets were contemporary, this notion was not. Best-case scenario: People were too focused on the stacked-heel platform terry-covered sandals to figure out this deeper message. Worst: They wear the slippers to the symphony.